“Haley.” I sigh, and look over at Mother. “You grew almost an inch this summer. Your winter coat won’t fit you.”
“Yeah, well, I still hate sewing.” The needle pokes my thumb and I bite my lip to stay quiet. “And I’ll never be able to sew as good as you do.”
“That’s because you don’t practice as much as you should. But it’s about time you learn, properly. What else are you going to do with all that coyote fur you and your father keep? And, if you don’t have a nice, warm coat, how are you and your father going to get more coyotes? For fur or for meat?”
“I get it, Ma. I have to make a coat so I can do stuff during winter and not be a hermit.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“I know,” I say quietly, and the needle pokes my thumb again.
“It’s just about time you start learning things for yourself, Haley.”
“I know, Ma. I’m sorry, Ma.”
-
Not to show off, but to prove I could, I took apart my old hat and put it back together again. Ma thought it was for practice. She never said what was going to happen with my old fur coat. Now that I knew what shapes made the hat, I was able to cut up my old coat and make a hat for Mother and Dad.
-
“Haley, where’s your coat?”
I look behind me, at my Mother. “I’m wearing it, aren’t I?”
“Your old coat, Haley.” I frown and turn back around. “Haley. I need your old coat!”
“No, Ma, I don’t have it anymore.”
“What do you mean, you don’t have it anymore?”
“Ma, it’s almost Christmas. Can’t you wait until Christmas?”
“No, Haley, I can’t. I need that fur today.”
“Well you can’t have it!” I yell. I have never seen my mother look so angry. “Why can’t you wait until Christmas! You always ruin everything!”
“Don’t run away from me, Haley!”
“I’m not running away!” And I’m not. I dig under my blankets and pillows and grab the two hats. Back in the main room, I throw them, and the extra fur, at my mother. “I hope you feel awful! I hope you hate your Christmas present!”
“Oh, Haley…”
“Don’t “oh, Haley” me! You didn’t tell me what I could or couldn’t do with my old coat! My old coat!”
“You don’t need a new hat, do you?”
“What?” How she could be so angry, to so calm, to so happy in a matter of seconds always confused me.
“When you took apart your hat and put it back together again, I thought you were trying to make it bigger.”
“Well you could have asked if it was too small! I took my hat apart so I could find out how to make your hat. And one for Dad.”
“How about we take this extra fur and make him a new muffler?”
I huff, warm air steaming around me. “You still ruined your Christmas.”
“I hate sewing.”
“Haley.” I sigh, and look over at Mother. “You grew almost an inch this summer. Your winter coat won’t fit you.”
“Yeah, well, I still hate sewing.” The needle pokes my thumb and I bite my lip to stay quiet. “And I’ll never be able to sew as good as you do.”
“That’s because you don’t practice as much as you should. But it’s about time you learn, properly. What else are you going to do with all that coyote fur you and your father keep? And, if you don’t have a nice, warm coat, how are you and your father going to get more coyotes? For fur or for meat?”
“I get it, Ma. I have to make a coat so I can do stuff during winter and not be a hermit.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“I know,” I say quietly, and the needle pokes my thumb again.
“It’s just about time you start learning things for yourself, Haley.”
“I know, Ma. I’m sorry, Ma.”
-
Not to show off, but to prove I could, I took apart my old hat and put it back together again. Ma thought it was for practice. She never said what was going to happen with my old fur coat. Now that I knew what shapes made the hat, I was able to cut up my old coat and make a hat for Mother and Dad.
-
“Haley, where’s your coat?”
I look behind me, at my Mother. “I’m wearing it, aren’t I?”
“Your old coat, Haley.” I frown and turn back around. “Haley. I need your old coat!”
“No, Ma, I don’t have it anymore.”
“What do you mean, you don’t have it anymore?”
“Ma, it’s almost Christmas. Can’t you wait until Christmas?”
“No, Haley, I can’t. I need that fur today.”
“Well you can’t have it!” I yell. I have never seen my mother look so angry. “Why can’t you wait until Christmas! You always ruin everything!”
“Don’t run away from me, Haley!”
“I’m not running away!” And I’m not. I dig under my blankets and pillows and grab the two hats. Back in the main room, I throw them, and the extra fur, at my mother. “I hope you feel awful! I hope you hate your Christmas present!”
“Oh, Haley…”
“Don’t “oh, Haley” me! You didn’t tell me what I could or couldn’t do with my old coat! My old coat!”
“You don’t need a new hat, do you?”
“What?” How she could be so angry, to so calm, to so happy in a matter of seconds always confused me.
“When you took apart your hat and put it back together again, I thought you were trying to make it bigger.”
“Well you could have asked if it was too small! I took my hat apart so I could find out how to make your hat. And one for Dad.”
“How about we take this extra fur and make him a new muffler?”
I huff, warm air steaming around me. “You still ruined your Christmas.”